


Stars, Scars, and a Coffeehouse

by EchoTheLoser



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, But also, Coffee Shops, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Platonic Soulmates, Rating May Change, Romantic Soulmates, Scars, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Urban Fantasy, now I how you're all ready for the trope dump, one setting, seriously if any of you think of a really good trope you want me to know just tell me!, this is a throw every trope at the wall and see what sticks kinda fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoTheLoser/pseuds/EchoTheLoser
Summary: The Clover Coffeehouse lives in the very center of the town, large enough to take up half the block. Patrons stare at their enemies while they nibble on pastries; patrons laugh at jokes lost in waves conversation; patrons sob as they fill their stomachs with elixirs to keep their lungs from filling with flowers. They search for a brief release from the patterns they will inevitably fall into as their lives echo the same old songs that came before them.(aka throwing every trope at the wall and seeing what sticks.)





	1. Welcome to the Clover Coffeehouse

**Author's Note:**

> The Clover Coffeehouse invites you inside. It whispers traces of its past, its present, and its future to you. It grins.

In the heart of the bustling town lives a colossal coffee shop that seems almost quiet in comparison. Every breath sends wind whistling down the alleyways. The café is simultaneously new and old. Eighty years ago, the first Clover Coffeehouse burned down, and so did the bed-and-breakfast built in its place; then the bank, then the clinic, then the hotel, then the club. Every single building meant to stand in The Clover's shadow was reduced to a pile of ash. Twelve years ago, a perfect replica of the original business was built, all eighty tables included. It was left standing, but the tone had changed from that first café. The rain was let in and the fire was put out.

One of the owners sits behind the coffee-machine, silently working with a smile on their face. They'd fallen in love with the curse of The Clover as a child, pouring over each and every blurry photo they could find, recovering every record of the territory lost long before they were born. They had helped build up their world, and now they rarely leave it. The counters look just as lived in as the small apartment above the main shop. Six regulars stare at them, trying to meet their eyes. They grin at the customers as they go to take their break, quickly pouring themself a cup of the coffee they'd been working on. The co-owner dances between the ovens, carrying trays of heart-shaped croissants from the kitchen to the front. It had been her idea to enchant the goods. She pushes her way to the register, taking her co-worker's spot. Four more regulars, two of whom had only been there once before (for few customers visit twice), push their ways in front of her. She greets each one cheerfully, until one on his second visit attempts to grab her hand, to which she turns away, flipping her hair over her shoulder to reveal the azaleas on the nape of her neck. Her eyes light up when her wife enters the shop, calling back to her friend that their break was over, less than two minutes since they'd taken their leave.

It was only natural that these two would be the co-owners; after all, there were only three employees in the building, and the third was part-time.

An entrancing melody hangs in the air as a woman strums her guitar from a small stage. The stage wasn't for public use except for once a week, but no one dared stop her hypnotic song. She'd been playing as long as any of the customers could remember, only releasing her hold on the acoustics on Thursdays when shaking hands would tentatively hand over the mic to possessors of starstruck eyes. However, this moment is a Friday, and her call would capture many more before her week was through. As her song ends, a high schooler claps happily for her tragic spell, before he turns back to glance in the direction of the part-time employee and the classmate she’s serving. The other boy alternates between laughing with her and glaring at the boy shyly looking in their direction. A man shuffles in, dragged by a bright eyed woman. Both of them are new. The woman orders one of the soulbound croissants and pushes the man forward. He orders a cup of coffee with cream and no sugar, barely even bothering to glance at the person serving it. The Clover sighs as he leaves.

The customers are almost all different daily, yet every seat is always full. Those who do return more than once always are remembered, even if it takes four years for them to visit again; those whose lives necessitated any more than a single visit were consoled by the building and taken in by its warm embrace. The comfort was enough to keep them returning. That, or they were trying their luck at getting caught in the patterns that many of the others were trying to escape from.

For that is what had changed about the coffee shop. The only thing notable about the old one was the size, the food, and the curse. This one offered something more.

This world operates on paths known to us all. No matter how they tried to escape them, everyone would be caught eventually. Mysterious illness, being whisked away to other dimensions, people pulled together by the strings of fate, flowers growing in lungs, getting trapped alone in a closet, pretending to be together, getting caught in time travel loops, pining on your own as the story refuses to catch up to you, dying in your family’s arms; these are the fates that meet each and everyone when they dare to step outside. The Clover offers a bubble. It is not immune- no, in this world nothing is immune- but it can slow the process, isolate the unusual, quiet the screams for just a minute. There was the normal food yes, plain coffee and biscuits, and while that was all well and good, that’s not what any of the one time customers arrived for. What made this version of The Clover Coffeehouse special was not the award advertising “the world’s best waffles”. It is the way out of the inevitable. Baked into each dish is escapism.

It may only heal for a moment, but a moment is enough to hope for.


	2. Part 1 - Lani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning breaks and Lani Allen enters the Clover on a day just like any other, at least according to her coworker.

The staff entrance opens before Lani can even turn the handle. _We really need to get that draft fixed,_ she thinks as she puts her keys away _._ The first floor is cold, as it always is in the morning before she arrives; heat starts building as soon as she turned on the light; Aza always said it was probably a fire hazard, but Lani was quick to point out that it never rose beyond 74 degrees. Besides, the Clover would never let anyone mess with its wiring; they’d had a hard enough time getting it to adjust to electricity to begin with.

A quick glance around the room reveals that Quinn is nowhere to be found, but the soft sound of music leads her up the stairs. Instrumental covers of gothic folk songs- an odd choice, and, from past experience, likely a bad sign. Not bothering to knock, she pulls open the door, ever so slightly frustrated that the apartment is completely unlocked. Her friend sits with their elbows rested against the dining table and a mug clasped tightly in their hands, gently humming along as though their entire body wasn’t shaking from their caffeine high, not looking up when Lani enters, simply bowing their head further down.

“Weird for you to be here so early.” They say, raising the mug in a greeting.

“Weird for you to be awake so early.”

“Can you hand me my choker?”

“Sure, if you stop listening to this song. It sounds like a ballad for a sick dog and I’d rather not start crying while I try to work.”

Quinn sighs and lifts their hand slightly, throwing a pencil at the speakers; it completely misses the power button but the song stops anyway, fate clearly pitying them. Lani hands them the necklace and politely avoids looking at them while they fasten it. As soon as their neck is covered, Quinn looks up and smiles slightly, shoving an open notebook into her hands. A brief glance of the page reveals a list of possible nicknames for who Lani recognizes as a recent regular.

“Which of these do you think will make him feel special yet insignificant?”

“Is that possible?”

Quinn shrugs and takes back the notebook, thrown pencil quickly rolling back towards them from across the room. Lani has always hated when that happened. It was one thing when people could actually _use_ magic, but with Quinn it was simply not their doing and, despite Quinn’s claims, she had trouble actually believing that foul play wasn’t involved in their luck. If it wasn’t for their complete ineptitude in everything other than random chance, Lani would have accused Quinn of hiding their powers from her.

“I couldn’t think of a good nickname his second visit, so I’ve just been calling him _darling._ ”

“You call every new customer darling.”

“Yeah, but he’s one of _my_ regulars, not the business’s, or yours or Serena’s or Carmin’s. He might think I mean it.”

Lani snorts under her breath. Anyone who thought that Quinn was anything more than casual these days had more issues than misguided flirting. Her smirk fades away as she glances around the room, and at the bouquet leaning against the windowsill. She quickly turns back to her friend who is looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Right. Well, Aza would probably suggest you call him bitch baby, but I think your fifth option is much less likely to get scalding coffee thrown in your face.” Quinn hummed noncommittally and scratched off a name on the list as Lani continued. “Speaking of coffee, just how many cups of that did you drink?”

Quinn takes another sip. “Just five so far.”

“It’s only five thirty in the morning. When is the last time you slept?”

Quinn rolls their eyes but continues smiling. “About a century ago. Why do you ask?” Lani crosses her arms and takes the mug out of their hands. Quinn gives her an annoyed look but lets it melt away. “It’s just coffee, _mom,_ nothing else _._ You don’t need to worry.”

“Right, and the hospital is just a building which I refuse to drive you to again.”

Quinn shakes their head fondly and stands up.

“You didn’t tell me why you’re here so early,” they mumble as if they really didn’t know. "You know you don't have to be here till eight," they continue as if the red roses and white lilies resting against the glass were just a gift from a customer and not grown from the garden specifically to be cut from it this morning.

“You’re going to visit Morana after your shift, right?” Quinn didn’t respond. “Right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Go earlier.”

Quinn met her eyes but was only looking through her. “Lani, I-”

“Kodi offered to cover the first half of your shift, and Serena will be here as soon as she gets out of school. I’m here until we close, and Aza’s going to be helping me clean up. You’re going to help me make enough batches of everything to last the day, then you’re going to go see her.”

“None of you should have to do that. Serena shouldn’t be working that long. Kodi doesn’t even _work here,_ and he deserves to visit her. You and Aza do too.”

“Too bad, because I already told everyone who offered to help that they could. If you’re going to make me act like the mom friend, you better be prepared for me to boss you around. Me and _my_ wife are going to see her after we’re done; you should go and meet yours.”

Quinn’s expression didn’t change, and their voice was as calm as ever as they thanked her. With a grin that almost matched the one her friend gave to every customer who walked through the doors, Lani grabbed their arm and pulled them down to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone who bothered to read this! This is the first real chapter, hence the chapter title. Introducing Lani, one of the coowners of the Clover Coffeehouse, on her mission to keep her friends from making stupid life choices. I hope you'll enjoy this as I continue onwards! Once again, comments and constuctive criticism are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading the beginning of this fic! This is just something I'm doing for fun inbetween my larger projects. I get hung up on making my more personal stories feel special, or making my fanfics in character, or trying to be original, and so I never actually get anything done as a result (obviously, considering how little I've written on here). Sooo, instead of any of that, I'm writing all my favorite tropes at once! Since this story is just a way to avoid writer's block for the other things I'm working on and not my main focus, I can't be sure about when uploads will be.  
> My plan is to split up the story into several subplots between multiple characters, so if you don't like that style I totally understand. But I think its gonna be fun for me. The rating may change, since I'm really just going with the flow.  
> Comments+ constructive critism are always welcome! Oh and if you have any favorite tropes in mind, please comment and I'll see if I can weave it in!


End file.
